THE DOCTOR'S MIXTURE.

BOOK I.

CHAPTER IV. A WALK HOME.

THIS little scene was witnessed from a
distance by admiring and envious groups.
The jaundiced Mr. Ridley led a sort of
clique. "Those two lickspittles, just watch
'em, touting for the unfortunate people the
instant they come into the parish. Look
at that spunging Shipton, with his false
air of bonhomie, and that low, whisky-
drinking Findlater! It would be a
charity to put them on their guard against
those two schemers."

This rather accurately described the
bearing of the two gentlemen, for Lord
Shipton began fluently: "Charming people;
so unassuming; not the least puffed up."

"And may be we did a stroke of business
too, this blessed day," added the Doctor.
"Maybe we didn't push my little fellow
into a corner. He'll have to do it. It's
the grey mare that draws the coach, eh,
my lord?"

"Oh, the thing is done. There can't be
a doubt about it. I always said this was
the way to go to work. Mrs. Leader seems
one of the most sensible women I have met
with for a long time."

Lord Shipton and the Doctor and his
family walked home slowly, his lordship
still so affable and fluent. "The young
ladies must give me a testimonial. I have,
indeed, worked hard to get the handsome
young red coats here for them. Two of
them shall fall slain by those Irish eyes."

"For shame, my lord," said Polly,
laughing. "I only care about the balls they'll
give.'

They were now at the Doctor's door,
at that warm-looking barrack of a house,
the lower part of which the Doctor's
"way" and taste had given very much
the air of a snug inn, with a faint notion
of a bar, and a general pine-apple fragrance.
Many a pleasant little dinner was given
there, and many a pleasant little
evening followed, as it were, in several
acts; the first being up-stairs, with the
lively, spirited girls; now at the piano
singing, now organising a round game; now
playing "Post" to hysterical screaming,
and scampering, and flustering, with papa
down on the floor, and "Billy" Webber,
who, by the rules of the game, had rushed
at one chair, and had sat half down on it,
and was struggling with a lady for the
other half. All this was delightful, and,
as the Doctor said, quite pastoral. This
was one act; and another as agreeable
was below, in the Doctor's little bar, the
world shut out: some "real poteen " in
a stone jar, which "had never paid a
halfpenny to the queen," and some really
capital "emperors," of which the doctor
could always count on an inexhaustible
supply, also obtained in defiance of the
customs. About his "hob" people drew
in the chairs, and were very happy until
one or two in the morning. The Doctor's
little dinners were also admirable. His
pride was, he said, to send every one
away "with something good inside of
him." He had a first-rate eye for meat,
and was as good a cook as his own Biddy,
whom he had trained himself.

Lord Shipton thought of all this as he
was saying good-bye; the faint pine-apple
aroma came floating out, and inviting him.
"I hate Shipton of a Sunday; curious, isn't
it? It puts me in the lows. My girls are
so serious, and must have the servants up,
for piety, and all that."

"Well, I tell you what, my lord," said